


His Design

by madwriter223



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Will Graham, Fluff, Gore, How'd I do that, M/M, Romantic Gore, Sweet (a little bit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of profiling others, of slipping into the minds of killers and losing pieces of himself to their madness, Will finally finds his own design. And he finally sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Design

**Author's Note:**

> [This takes place directly after the last supper scene in season 2 finale]

“To the truth then.” Hannibal uttered quietly, lifting his wine glass. “And all of its consequences.” He sounded oddly disappointed and resigned. He took a small sip and swallowed slowly, letting out a weary sigh.

Will took a bite of his food and looked at Hannibal, expression contemplating. “Don't you want Jack to know? To see his face as he finally connects the dots. Don't you want him to see your design?”

There was a long pause before Hannibal. “Truthfully, no.” He said, not looking at Will. “My future plans are with you. There is no place in it for Jack nor Alana. Nor Freddie Lounds.”

Will put down his cutlery and sat back slowly, carefully keeping his expression blank. “You know then.”

“I do.” Hannibal inclined his head, tone matter-of-fact. “I also assume that Jack knows as well, and the grand revelation you're hoping for has already come and passed.”

Will's mouth twitched. “How?”

“Earlier today, you carried around a rather familiar fragrance.” Hannibal gave a mirthless smile. “Of the red-headed persuasion.”

“Heh.” Of course it was the nose. “Will you kill me now?”

“I haven't decided yet.” Hannibal set down his glass and leaned back slightly. “You are my friend, Will. You are perhaps the only person in my life I truly consider my friend. It seems you do not share the sentiment.”

“I do.” Will admitted after a moment of thought. The truth felt oddly soothing out loud. “You are dear to me.”

“And yet you conspired with Jack to kill me.”

“Not kill.” Will denied, shaking his head slowly.

“Take away my freedom then.” Hannibal poured himself some more wine then took a slow sip, savouring the taste on his tongue. “Tell me, Will. What do you think the FBI will say when they discover just how far Jack condoned you to go? What do you think their reaction will be?”

“I am well aware what their reactions will be.” Will wrinkled his nose in aggravation at the reminder. “I have no illusions about my future fate.” He was willing to pay it, he added to himself. It was more of a reminder than fact, though. Stay on target. Eyes on the prize.

Hannibal stared at his plate, one finger tracing slowly along the porcelain edge. He gave a quiet sigh and looked at Will, his brows knitted together slightly. “Tell me what you want of me, Will.” He asked, his tone carefully non-pleading. “What do you want to happen? Tell me, and I will do my best to make it a reality.”

Will blinked solemnly, considering his options. It would not hurt to use his empathy to look through Hannibal and into the monster lurking underneath his face. He's done it before, many times to many people. But then again. Now Will carried his own monster, lurking right behind his eyes. Perhaps he should look there, for a change. 

So Will closed his eyes with a deep breath and let the pendulum swing.

He was seated at this very table, the rich meal dripping with blood of Hannibal's kills. His victims. He could see the ravenstag standing in the corner of the room, watching them both with an unnatural stillness. Waiting. Will looked to the side and concentrated on Hannibal. The way he sat, the way he looked, the way he was.

Will wanted to destroy that.

He stood up from his chair and calmly walked over to the doctor, picking up one of his carving knives along the way. He grabbed Hannibal's hair and yanked his head back, exposing the muscular line of his throat. He made his cut slowly, pushing the blade deep into the flesh and sinew, blood bursting down his fingers. He kept cutting, cutting and cutting, until the head separated from the neck with a weak crack of the spine breaking.

Will clenched his fingers tighter in the blond hair and lifted the head higher, so that he could stare into the decapitated gaze. He looked into the maroon eyes for a single heartbeat then dropped the knife carelessly onto the table. He shifted his grip on the head, cradling it gently, tenderly between both of his palms. His fingers left bloodied tracks across one cheek and Will nuzzled at the stains, tasting them with the tip of his tongue. He inhaled deeply and allowed the smell of Hannibal's skin to wrap around him, memorized it. Almost as an afterthought, he brought their lips together and kissed him deeply; his friend, his Hannibal.

This was his design.

Will took another deep breath and opened his eyes, staring sightlessly at the tabletop. Ah. That certainly explained a few things.

“Will?” Hannibal prompted quietly. “What did you see?”

Will lifted his gaze, but didn't look at the doctor. “Pack.” He said, the single word like a gunshot in the otherwise silent room. “I want you to pack. No more than two suitcases, pack only the things you truly care about. Only the things you might miss.” He stood up and moved towards the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

Hannibal stood as well and followed after him. “Where are you going?” He asked softly, making no move to stop him.

“I'll be back in the morning. Early.” Will bit out and slammed the door behind himself. He went to his car and drove off, heading straight to his home in Wolf Trap.

*~*

The night was calm and quiet, the air cool and still. Will breathed it in deeply and sat back in his chair, the back of his head resting against the wall behind him. He stared out at the field surrounding his house, his dogs sleeping on the floor around his feet.

Will had seen that deep place inside of people, the one where their designs came from. He had seen it first hand, had felt it both on his skin and under it. He had seen Hannibal's design. He had seen his own. 

For months now he and Hannibal had been circling each other, first as predator and unknowing prey, then as two predators craving blood. Will hadn't even noticed how tightly they had wrapped around each other in the process. Too closely to separate without any complications.

Will closed his eyes and saw his design again. Saw himself pressed against Hannibal, clawing and biting and ripping to get underneath the skin. And Hannibal always lets him. Stands still with a placid, self-satisfied smile and lets his flesh be rendered to strips as much as Will wants. He just wraps his arms around Will and encourages him, guides him, urges him into further viciousness.

Will doesn't particularly mind. Neither does Hannibal.

Will has also seen Jack's design. He has heard the plan, had felt the blind, stubborn drive behind it. He is well aware Jack will stop at nothing to reach his ultimate goal. He's proven this time after time. Person after person.

If Will continues to follow Jack's design, he'll end up right back in the nut-house. Or prison; Will doubts the FBI still liked him enough to allow an insanity plea. He's likely to end up on the electric chair by this point. And Hannibal's fate would be just as bad. Or maybe they'd place him under Chilton's dubious care, as one further indignity. The thought of Hannibal locked in that cell, muzzled and strapped down like a rabid dog made Will's skin crawl.

No.

Will closed his eyes and thought of his own design again. He smelled the tangy scent of blood, felt it dripping down his fingers. He felt Hannibal's pliant lips beneath his own, dry and warm, felt them open to accept Will's insistent tongue.

Will opened his eyes leisurely and leaned back in his chair. He felt calm now. Relaxed in his own skin like he hadn't been in ages. Finding your design apparently does that. It was oddly peaceful like this, knowing who you were and seeing what you were striving for. Everything was clear as day and his emotions were finally calm, after years of being strewn around as if in a relentless storm. No wonder so many people strived to achieve their design. No wonder so many monsters fought to keep their own.

It was a freeing sensation. One Will himself was not willing to lose. Especially not to Jack.

The hasty decision he'd made at dinner solidified and he got up, heading straight inside. He took his phone out of his pocket and started dialling; he had the number for the nearest airport outside of Baltimore all but memorized by now. As he waited for the other side to pick up, he wandered to his desk and riffled through the drawers for the pet passports he'd had prepared the moment they let him leave the hospital.

He only had a few hours to organize everything, so there was no time to waste.

*~*

The next morning, Will drove a rental van up to Hannibal's place. He locked the dogs inside and walked up to the entrance, his single backpack slung over one shoulder. He rang the bell and only had to wait a few seconds before Hannibal was opening the door.

“Will.” He greeted, as always dressed immaculately.

Will gave a small wave. “Are you packed?”

Hannibal nodded. “I am. As you requested.”

“Good. Go get your bags and lets go. We're leaving now.”

Hannibal stared at him, expression closed off slightly, contemplating. “The dinner party is tonight. It would be horribly rude to cancel it at such short notice.”

Will stared back at him, his jaw moving stiffly from side to side as he considered his answer. “You asked me what I want. This is what I want.” He gestured at the van with his hand. “Us. Gone from here. From Jack, from Alana, from Lounds. Just you and me.”

Hannibal smiled softly and reached out, taking hold of Will's tightly-clenched fist. “May one other person accompany us?”

“Alana can't come.” Will said firmly, a scowl knitting his brows together.

“I'm not speaking about her.” Hannibal shook his head and pulled Will past the threshold. He then let go and walked away, towards the kitchen.

Will stared at Hannibal's retreating back and huffed impatiently. He checked his watch then set his backpack down, kicking the door shut. He touched the gun in his pocket briefly, making sure it was in easy reach, then followed Hannibal into the kitchen. Whoever it was, Will's design was built for two people only (the dogs were already included).

Except that apparently wasn't completely true. Abigail was standing in the middle of Hannibal's pristine kitchen. Abigail. Either she wasn't actually dead or Will was hallucinating again.

“Hi.” She waved at him with an awkward little smile.

He stared at her, barely even breathing.

After a moment, Abigail pursed her lips and furrowed her brows worriedly. As he remained silent, she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself tightly. “I didn't know what to do so I did what he told me to.” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Will's hands clenched into fists, throat so tight he felt he would choke. Abigail. Abigail, Abigail. She was alive. Alive and (mostly) whole. She was thinner than she'd been before, skin wan; her fingers were trembling every so slightly. Will could physically feel the anxiousness rolling off of her.

Abigail.

Will closed his eyes and let the pendulum swing. His design was just as vivid as before. Him and Hannibal, facing each other. Hannibal smiled tenderly at him, expression calm, body relaxed. Will's hand clenched on a meat cleaver and he slammed it into the doctor's chest. He drew the blade back and struck again. Then again and again. He kept hitting until the ribs cracked and Hannibal's chest was split open, his revealed organs slick with blood. Will smiled gently at Hannibal and plunged his bare hands into his ribcage. He dug his fingers in deep, slipping beneath the lungs to get at the heart. He gripped it tightly and ripped it out in one vicious yank. Will stared at the organ in his hand and squeezed it tightly; he stared in fascination at how the flesh strained against his fingers as the heart kept stubbornly beating.

Will brought the heart reverently to his lips and bit down; his teeth sunk into the firm meat like fangs. He ripped off a good chunk and chewed savagely, growling low in his throat as Hannibal's taste filled his mouth.

This was his design.

Will cradled Hannibal's bleeding heart against his chest in one hand and grabbed the back of the doctor's neck with the other. He pulled him down, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss. He didn't stop chewing, though, and even drew back briefly to take another bite out of the still beating heart. He pressed close and smeared the blood between them, rubbing it across Hannibal's lips and cheeks. After a couple minutes of slow kissing, Will parted his lips and Hannibal followed suit. Their kiss deepened and Will used his tongue to push the chewed bits of Hannibal's heart into the doctor's mouth, sharing the taste of him.

Hannibal hummed in appreciation and swallowed his mouthful. Will drew back for another vicious bite then returned to the kiss, transferring the meat to and fro between their mouths. They took turns chewing each morsel, sharing the taste between them.

When all of the heart had been consumed, Will broke the kiss and licked his lips. He smiled at Hannibal, then took a step back, out of the doctor's arms. He looked around, studying their surroundings. They were standing on a beach, the sand clean and warm beneath his bare feet. His dogs were all around them, jumping and running and rolling in the sand. Abigail was there too, a little way away from them. She was playing fetch with the dogs, throwing a human femur for them to chase. She was relaxed and laughing, no tension or anxiety in her.

Hannibal took Will's hand in his, intertwining their fingers together. The blood was still hot as it dripped down their joined hands.

The pendulum swung and Will opened his eyes. Abigail was still looking at him with a worried expression, brows knitted anxiously. Will stepped forward, hands reaching out towards her. He set them on either side of her neck, thumbs pressing against the joints of her jaw. He squeezed firmly and she drew in a startled breath. Her hands grabbed onto his wrists, fingers digging into his skin, but she didn't fight his hold nor try to push him away. Just stood patiently still.

Will smiled widely. “Hello, Abigail.” He said softly. “Are you packed?”

“Yes.” She smiled back shakily and Will felt her muscles relax.

“Good.” Will released her and patted her shoulders lightly. “Go get the bags ready, we'll be along in a minute.”

Abigail's eyes went to Hannibal's for a brief moment, then she nodded. “Okay.”

Will waited for her to leave the kitchen, her steps unsure and slow. Will watched her go, half-afraid she'd disappear like a morning mist. When the door closed behind her, Will turned to face Hannibal. He walked up to him, both hands relaxed at his sides. Will stopped just in front of him and Hannibal smiled calmly, a soft expression in his eyes. A second later he let out a choked gasp as Will delivered a ruthless punch to his solar plexus. The doctor pitched forward from the hit, but Will caught him, guiding him to lean against his slighter frame. He wrapped his arms tightly around Hannibal's torso and buried his face against his collarbone.

“You bastard.” He whispered, his voice muffled against his shirt. He squeezed tighter and concentrated on how warm and solid Hannibal was against him, using it to anchor himself and his emotions. Once the doctor caught his breath, Hannibal placed his palms across Will's back, rubbing in slow circles. Will waited for him to say something, but the doctor remained spitefully silent. Apparently the cannibal was satisfied with letting Will lead.

All right then. It served Will's design fine, he'd had enough of being 'led'.

Will released his hold and took a single step back. He met Hannibal's gaze steadily, back straight. “You're packed as well, I reckon.”

Hannibal nodded, still silent.

“Good.” Will grabbed his elbow and pushed him out of the kitchen. “Our plane leaves in three hours, so lets get going.”

“And where does it leave to?” Hannibal asked, leading Will into the side-room where he'd left their bags.

“To Portugal. We'll cross the border to Spain and then we'll go wherever we want.” He recalled his design and the smooth sand under his bare toes. “Somewhere with a beach, preferably.”

“We shall see.” Hannibal smiled at him and opened the door. Abigail jumped to her feet, fiddling with her scarf nervously. “Are you ready to go?” He asked her.

She shrugged, letting go of her scarf. “As I'll ever be.”

“Excellent.” Hannibal walked up to her and touched her cheek gently. “There is no need to worry now.”

Abigail glanced at Will briefly then gave the doctor a tight-lipped smile that was more akin to a grimace. He smiled back, nonplussed, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. Then he stepped around her and went to gather up their suitcases. She lifted her own, mauve one and edged closer to Will. “So umm... are we really leaving?”

Will nodded, staring at her happily. Alive, she was alive he reminded himself. A part of him wanted to hug her tightly, but that would probably overwhelm her and definitely overwhelm him. So he refrained and stood a little bit closer to her. “Yes.”

She looked at him and bit the inside of her lip. “What about your dogs?”

“They're coming with us.” Will answered, matter-of-fact.

Hannibal's brows twitched. “That will be rather conspicuous.” He pointed out reasonably. “Seven dogs is rather characteristic.”

Oh yeah, that reminded him. “Not if we separate them into less noticeable groups.” He went to his backpack, still by the front door, and took out his document folder. He opened it as he walked back to the side-room and showed the pair his dogs' pet passports. Falsified, of course. “All we need is to write in the names we'll be travelling under and we're set. Two, three dogs per person is not that odd.”

Hannibal took one of the papers and looked it over. “I see you've thought of everything.” He gave Will a small smile and turned to Abigail. “Could you fetch me our new passports, please? This will only take a moment to complete.”

She nodded. “Which bag are they in?”

Hannibal glanced at their luggage. “The small navy blue one. Front pocket.” He looked at Will. “I took the liberty of having one made for you as well.”

Will gave him an unsurprised, slightly fond smile. “I figured you would have.” Hannibal was always prepared for every possibility. Will didn't even want to think what Hannibal had planned for Will if he'd have decided to follow through with Jack's charade. He had a feeling no one would've left this house happy with the outcome.

END

**Author's Note:**

> To those wondering, pet passports are a real thing. It basically means that, if your pet has one, it won't have to be quarantined upon arrival in a new country. Easier to disappear if you don't have to wait two weeks for your pack. ^_^
> 
> There's also the possibility of a epilogue of sorts, but I'm not sure I'll manage it any time soon. Just in case, I'm marking this as a one shot.


End file.
